Day 74 – Half Hour Hitman – Part 2

If you haven’t read it, here’s part 1.

Word count: 1312

Andy smiled to himself as he walked back towards the club. It was nearly half two in the morning and he needed sleep. His legs ached and his mouth was numb with alcohol. By the gurgling from his stomach, he was sure he was not going to enjoy tomorrow morning. Having just left his friends to get a taxi back home, he was heading off to find his wallet which he could have sworn he had left behind the bar as security for a tab.

It had been such a great night. He could almost be sure that his head would be throbbing with the dance beats from the club the next morning. His feet already seemed to be jigging to some unknown beat as he walked down the empty city street. It was London, Mayfair. It might have seemed busy to a tourist, but this was quiet for the area. The clubs shut early midweek. Normally there would be people roaming the streets and clubs well into the early hours.

Andy felt a text message vibrate inside his pocket. He ignored it. He knew exactly who it would be from and he was not in the mood for her right now. He shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his upper arms, shivering slightly. It was a cold night. He was just in his normal clothes; no jacket or anything to keep him warm. Andy thought the alcohol might have kept him warmer than this, but it was evidentially not the case. He continued walking down the street.

It had been raining at some point whilst they were inside. The pavement was damp and puddles were scattered around like potholes in a country road. Andy thought the way the neon lights’ reflection shone from the pavement was beautiful. He loved London when it was like this. He loved the city, but he loved the quiet and the calm more. At two thirty on a Wednesday morning, this was as quiet as it got, really.

Another text vibrated in his pocket. Andy’s tolerance fell. He could hack her constant texting most of the time – well sometimes – but tonight really was not one of them. Tonight had been about getting together with old friends and catching up, having fun. He did not need two hundred missed calls and as many text messages from her. As he reached inside his pocket to turn his phone to full silent mode – he did not even want to think about ignoring the messages – he felt some peculiar sixth sense pick up something like radar. Was there someone behind him? His own footsteps seemed to have an echo.

Andy quickened his pace a smidgen. Though he did not even have his wallet on him, he feared being mugged. They could have knives and a nasty temper; they could be armed and angry. From the corner of his eye, Andy’s fears were further stimulated. A flicker of a shadow crossed a section of illuminated puddle just milliseconds after his own had done. Could it have just been a double shadow? Andy did not want to risk it. The second set of footsteps continued to click behind him.

Breath pressing hard against his inner chest, he tried to act calm and rationale. Would he be able to make it to the nightclub in time? It was only a few hundred metres away now. But fate snatched all possibilities away.

A pair of hands grabbed his neck and shoulders and thrust his feet from the ground. Andy struggled to breathe as he clutched at the tight arm locked over his neck. He gagged and tried to wriggle free as the arm tightened its grip even further. Andy was being dragged from the street down some side alley way. He flailed his legs in an attempt to get a grip as the man pulled him further and further from the sight of passers by. He could not make a sound. His struggle was becoming more and more muted the tighter the lock on his throat got.

The darkness engulfed them. The street-lights now felt like distant stars. Suddenly the man loosened his grip a little – Andy gulped a staggered breath – and threw Andy against the wall. Andy’s back smashed into an immediate bruise and he recoiled in pain. A fist was suddenly thrown in his face. Andy felt his nose break as a rush of blood pounded through his skull.

“I d-d-on’t have ‘ny ‘oney!” he yelled in pain to his assailant.

His head was then thrown back against the wall as a fistful of fingers yanked his hair backwards. A fresh punch launched from the side and collided with his cheekbone. Andy’s face crashed into his chest with pain. But his hair was once more pulled upwards towards the sky. Blinded by the high sky lights above and the massive swelling in his nose, he spluttered blood out out of his mouth.

“P-p-please, I ‘on’t ‘ave ‘nything… no ‘oney!”

Andy could just in no more make out a figure in the dark. It was a man. He could distinguish no further details. The man appeared to be hesitating.

“P-please…” Andy begged.

But it was not more than a second later that Andy realised that the man had not been hesitating. A swiping motion signified a knife being drawn from a sheath. Andy panicked and tried to flee, only to be thrown back against the wall once more. The man clutched a tight grip around Andy’s jaw. Andy’s chin was aching. The man slowly pressed Andy’s skull back against the hard brick behind him. All Andy could see was the tiny sparkle of neon reflection on the tip of the knife edge as it was raised high above the man’s head and poised for the strike…

Andy closed his eyes, choosing to shut his mind to the unbearable future. But it did not come. The sharp agony that Andy had anticipated did not arrive. Instead Andy was thrown forward like a plastic bag and toppled over on to the ground. His knees slammed against the uneven tarmac. A hand picked him by the scruff of the neck like a toy and dragged him to his feet. Together, they seemed to be moving forward; the man dragging Andy along like a dead weight.

It appeared to be after only a few metres that they stopped and the man threw Andy to the ground once more. Andy hung his head low, his knees too damaged to move. His every breath was sodden with blood and the blackness of the alleyway consumed all sight.

He heard noises. Noises like car doors slammed. Andy contemplated running; but his body could not. Despite his injuries, he was unwilling to argue with any sharp instruments. But it was not long before the pair of hands was heaving his body upwards. Andy tried to struggle, but he felt the knife pressing in against his side. Once to his feet, Andy was suddenly thrown forwards. His head slammed against something metal and he landed sideways into a small box like contraption. The man stuffed his limbs further into the box as Andy wiped the blood from his eyes. In the darkness, Andy could finally make out a clearer image of his assailant. His body was silhouetted in a grey hue. There was a glint in his eye as he pulled something black down over Andy. The darkness clicked into place. All Andy could hear now was the sound of his breath choking with blood and the muffled sound of someone traversing tarmac and opening a car door.

Andy slammed a fist on the bottom surface.

“Help! Help!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

But there was no one there to hear him. No one except the Half Hour Hitman, whose time was running out.

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~ by S.G. Mark on December 20, 2011.

One Response to “Day 74 – Half Hour Hitman – Part 2”

  1. Intrigued.

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